


Beat the guilt out of me

by JJ_Smith



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derogatory Language, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Painplay, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, painslut Stiles, slutshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ_Smith/pseuds/JJ_Smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows it's wrong, but it's the best way he's found to deal with the guilt he feels over the things he did as the nogitsune. He can practically hear Scott telling him to just get therapy, but he'd much rather let random strangers fuck him in a dirty bathroom. Until Peter comes in, offering everything Stiles wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat the guilt out of me

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I actually wrote this... I just like seeing Stiles hurt I guess.   
> I'm not sure if there'll be any more fics from me in this fandom, since I'm not really into Teen Wolf any more. We'll see. If this is the last, at least I'm going out with a bang!  
> I hope you enjoy this!

Stiles knows it’s wrong. He should be happy that things have calmed down. He knows he should be happy that he’s not getting kicked his ass handed to him every other day. He shouldn’t miss the bruises he was always covered in. But he does.

He’s standing in front of the mirror, looking at the fading bruises on his hips. He presses his fingers to them and presses down, gasping. The little pain brings back memories of how he got those bruises; of frantic groping in a dirty bathroom in a club, of being shoved against a wall, of being thrust into from behind, of hands gripping his hips too tightly.

Stiles knows perfectly well that it isn’t normal to enjoy that pain, but he also knows that he’s far from normal. It’s been years, but he still feels the lingering effects of being possessed by the nogitsune. He can still see the monster using his own hands to hurt, to maim, to kill. He can hear people begging for their lives, can still see the light leaving their eyes. Rationally, he knows it wasn’t his fault, but he feels responsible. When he’s in pain, when someone’s hurting him, he doesn’t hear their pleas. Everything centers around that pain and nothing else matters. The world falls silent.

Now that they no longer get attacked by monsters every other day, Stiles needs to get his pain from somewhere else. For a couple of months now he’s gotten it by having sex with strangers. He goes to Jungle seeking sex as often as he can without Scott or his dad becoming aware of his obsession for it. 

Seeing the fading bruises, Stiles decides he’ll need to go out again tonight. He hopes he’ll find someone who’s not afraid to be rough with him. Stiles has perfected his clubbing look. He wear tight jeans, but not too tight to be cumbersome to take off. His whole look is fashioned around the fact that it needs to come off quickly. He wears a loose shirt, showing off one milky white shoulder. More often than not he’ll get someone dancing behind him, stroking the naked skin. That’s when Stiles knows he’s found a good partner. 

That evening, it’s again the shoulder that finds him his partner. He’s slightly intoxicated and dancing in the middle of the dance floor when he feels two strong hands settle on his hips. Lips press against his shoulder, before blunt teeth nip at his skin.

Stiles gasp, the feel of teeth shooting straight down to his cock.

“I knew it,” a familiar voice whispers in his ear. “You come here looking like prey, and that’s exactly what you are. A pretty young thing, waiting for someone to bruise his skin.”

Stiles’ eyes widen when he realizes who the voice belongs to.

“Ssh,” the man says. “Don’t speak, you don’t need to say my name. I can give you what you want, but I understand if you don’t want it from me. I’ll be outside by my car for the next 30 minutes. Join me if you want. I’m not taking you in a dirty bathroom stall like your former conquests.”

Suddenly Stiles is left frozen and alone on the dance floor with a big decision to make. Is he going to go home with Peter Hale, a known killer, or will he try his luck on the dance floor. He only needs to think about Peter’s supernatural strength for a second before making his decision; he’s going home with Peter. Stiles nearly strips over his own feet in his hurry to get outside. He sees Peter leaning against his car, a grin on his face.

“I knew you’d come,” he says, looking at Stiles like a cat would look at a mouse.

For once in his life Stiles doesn’t know what to say. Instead he walks past Peter and lets himself into the car, settling into the passenger seat. This is only a one time thing, he tells himself. He’ll let Peter fuck him once and get it out of his system. Just one time.

Peter joins him in the car. “Before we leave, I want to know your safeword,” he says.

Stiles freezes, he’s never thought about that before.

“Stiles, don’t tell me you’ve been having rough sex without a safeword,” Peter tuts. “How reckless of you.”

“Scott,” Stiles decides. “Scott’s my safeword.” He figures if anything will kill the mood it’s the guy who basically acts as his moral compass. 

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Interesting choice.” He turns his key and drives away.

“How long have you been watching me?” Stiles asks.

“Two months,” Peter answers. “Just to make sure no one hurts you too badly.”

“How did you…”

“Know you like pain?” Peter asks, grinning again. “My dear boy, you really need to be more aware of your surroundings. You walked right past me to get fucked by one of your boys. Of course I couldn’t help but listen in. Out of concern, naturally. ‘Harder, please, harder! Make it hurt!’” Peter says, mimicking Stiles’ voice.

“I don’t sound like that,” Stiles huffs.

“Sure you don’t,” Peter says in a mocking tone.

“So… is this a one time thing?” Stiles asks.

“Whatever you want it to be,” Peter answers. “If you don’t want this to continue, you never have to come back. If you want another go… well, you’ll know where I live after tonight.”

Stiles doesn’t want to think about going to Peter again. He knows Scott won’t approve of any of this. Once is bad enough. Still, a part of him already yearns for more. He has a feeling Peter will be able to give him what he wants, what he needs. He doesn’t dare say more the entire ride to Peter’s apartment. 

It comes as no surprise to Stiles that Peter lives in the penthouse of the most luxurious apartment building in town. There’s one thing that worried Stiles, Peter lives in an apartment building, which means he shares the building with others. What if they hear him?

“Um… Peter… What will your neighbors say? I’m not exactly quiet,” Stiles says hesitantly.

“You honestly think I didn’t soundproof my place?” Peter replies. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

Stiles blushes a little. He’s again lost for words.

“Are you having second thoughts? It’s not too late to back out yet,” Peter says.

Stiles shakes his head. “I want this.”

“Good.” Peter doesn’t waste another second and gets out of the car. He even opens Stiles’ door for him, like they’re on an actual date.

“Careful, someone might mistake you for a gentleman,” Stiles says, slowly finding his confidence again. This will go well. He’ll get fucked by Peter and in the morning he’ll wake up with some new bruises that’ll help him deal with everything. It’s no big deal. He’s confident as he follows Peter inside the building, he’s sure of his decision to come here as he rides up in the elevator, he’s looking forward to the sex as the elevator doors open to reveal Peter’s apartment. When he sets one foot inside, however, he can feel the nerves settle back in. 

Luckily Peter doesn’t give him long to doubt before he’s pressed up against a wall with Peter’s mouth on his shoulder. Blunt teeth are biting his shoulder again while Peter’s hands roam over his body before settling on his hips. 

“Woah, you’re certainly not wasting any time,” Stiles says. “Don’t bite too hard and change me okay? Well, you can’t, can you? You’re not an Alpha.”

“Are you going to talk through everything?” Peter asks, sounding annoyed. 

“I don’t know, probably. I talk a lot, you should know that,” Stiles says.

“Great, just great. Thankfully I know how to shut you up.”

Stiles doesn’t have time to think about it. Peter turns him around and forces him on his knees. There’s no denying that Stiles enjoys being manhandled like this; his cock is already pushing against his jeans.

“Let’s put that mouth of yours to good use,” Peter says, grinning down at Stiles. He pulls his pants down just far enough to take out his cock.

Stiles doesn’t need to be told twice and immediately reaches forward, taking Peter into his mouth. 

“Well, you’re certainly not wasting any time,” Peter says, mimicking Stiles’ words. He reaches down to hold onto Stiles’ hair tightly.

Stiles moans at the first tug of his hair. This seems to encourage Peter to treat him rougher. Peter tugs on his hair again, this time pulling Stiles off completely.

“If I feel even the slightest hint of teeth, you’ll sorely regret it,” Peter says sternly. He holds onto Stiles’ head tightly before slamming his cock back inside, roughly beginning to fuck into Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles’ eyes nearly roll back in pleasure. He’s never experienced anything like this, to be used like this by someone else is everything he’s been needing. He gags nearly instantly, but that doesn’t seem to stop Peter. In fact, it only encourages him, fucking into Stiles’ mouth faster.

Stiles knows he must look like a mess. There are tears running down his cheeks, spit dripping down onto his chest. Still, he’s never felt better. He has no idea how long he is on his knees for; it feels like both an eternity and barely any time at all. Peter pushes forward, shoving his cock as far into Stiles’ mouth as possible and holds it there as he comes..

He tries to pull away, Peter’s cock is cutting off his oxygen, but Peter’s hand on his head holds him steady. There is a moment of panic as Stiles starts choking on Peter’s cock when Peter steps away.

Stiles sinks forward onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath. It takes him a moment to recover, when he does he notices that sometime during getting fucked he’s come in his pants, untouched.

“Would you look at that, the little slut made my floor dirty,” Peter says, sounding disapproving.

When Stiles looks down he sees that he’s spilled drool beneath him when he tries to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, sir,” he says, the addition of ‘sir’ coming naturally for him.

“What are you waiting for? Lick it up,” Peter orders.

Stiles blushes bright red and leans down to lick up his own drool. It is humiliating, but not as humiliating as the feeling of his cock stirring again already. He shouldn’t be turned on this much by something so humiliating, but Stiles can’t help it. Of course, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Peter, who kneels down next to him.   
“Good to know it’s not just pain that gets you off, you like being treated like a worthless whore too. I’ll make sure that need is seen to as well,” he whispers in Stiles’ ear. When he gets up again he kicks Stiles’ side, making him topple over. “Don’t bother, I doubt a whore like you could properly clean anything. Stand up and strip,” he orders.

Stiles couldn’t have hid the moan at being kicked if he tried. It doesn’t hurt too much, Peter obviously held back a lot. Still, he knows there’ll be a nice bruise there in a couple of hours. “Yes, sir,” he says. He strips down as quickly as he can, nearly tripping over his own feet when he tries to take off his pants. Stiles turns bright red again when he hears Peter laugh.

“Turn around, hands on the wall,” Peter orders when Stiles is naked.

Stiles stiffens, but follows orders. He has no idea what is waiting for him, but he is excited nonetheless. Peter is doing everything right, fulfilling every need Stiles has. “Are you going to do something or do you need me to just stand here and look pretty?” The next thing out of Stiles’ mouth is a yell as Peter’s hand lands harshly on his ass. 

“As pretty as you’d look as decoration in my apartment, I do have a plan for you,” Peter says. He strokes Stiles’ ass, which is already turning a little red. “Now, I’m going to give you a choice. Either I use my hand or my belt. What do you want?”

That actually manages to shut Stiles up. He liked the way Peter’s hand had felt, but he’s also curious to feel his belt.

“What’s wrong, is the slut unable to think?” Peter asks, hitting Stiles again. “Should I make the decision for you?”

Stiles nods. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Peter says.

“Yes, sir. Please,” Stiles answers, ducking his head in shame for begging Peter.

“That’s a good boy,” Peter says, ending his compliment with another slap.

Stiles hears some movement behind him. Next thing he knows he feels Peter’s belt hit his ass hard. He yells out in pain, tears welling up in his eyes. It’s terrible, but his cock’s hardening between his legs again.

“You are such a little painslut, aren’t you?” Peter says, obviously smelling Stiles’ arousal. “I wonder how much more you can take.”

Stiles doesn’t keep quiet, he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to if he tried anyway, as Peter lands hit after hit. Every time the pain seems to lessen slightly, the next blow lands. When Peter finishes, Stiles is left whimpering. Fat tears roll over his cheeks, while his cock is rock hard, dripping precome. It’s weird to feel both the pain and pleasure at the same time, but he doesn’t want it any other way. 

“That’s a nice color on you,” Peter says, caressing Stiles’ ass. “Do you want to see?”

“Please, sir,” Stiles says. The submission comes so easily to him suddenly. He doesn’t feel like talking back, all he wants is to do what Peter asks of him.

Stiles hears some movement behind him and then Peter’s phone is in front of his face. There’s a picture of his backside, which is a very violent red from the belt. Stiles could come on the spot just from the picture alone.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Peter purrs in his ear. “Just think about what it’s going to be like to sit tomorrow, you’ll be able to feel this for days to come.”

Those words pull Stiles over the edge; he tenses up and comes over Peter’s wall. His orgasm earns him another slap on his ass; it almost makes Stiles howl in pain. 

“I didn’t give you permission to come, did I?” Peter says sternly. “That’s twice now, make sure it doesn’t happen a third time.”

Stiles hangs his head in shame. “Sorry, sir.”

“Do you still want to be fucked?” Peter asks. 

Even though Stiles’ body is protesting, he can’t imagine ending the night without being fucked. He’s shaking on his legs, both from the pain and exhaustion, but he can’t imagine any answer other than a yes.

“Yes, sir,” Stiles says, pushing his ass backwards a little.

“Very eager, I see. I was thinking about bringing you to my bed, but I don’t think a slut like you could last that long,” Peter says. “Besides, I don’t want you to get my sheets dirty.”

Stiles blushes bright red at the insults, he feels terrible, which makes him feel a lot better.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Peter says, leaving Stiles alone.

Waiting feels like an eternity to Stiles. He listens to Peter walking around, but he doesn’t dare turn his head to look for him. He doesn’t want to risk pissing Peter off again and losing the chance to get fucked. 

When Peter returns, he slaps Stiles’ ass by way of greeting him.

Stiles moans painfully, tearing up. He can barely get himself to keep standing, something Peter must notice.

“You okay?” he asks, sounding caring. He gently caresses Stiles’ back.

Stiles nods. “Just… tired. In pain. Don’t stop.”

Peter presses a kiss between Stiles’ shoulder blades. “Good, I don’t want to stop.” When Peter’s hand leaves Stiles’ back, all the gentleness goes away with it. “Change of plans, we’re moving.” It’s all Peter says before he picks Stiles up like he weighs nothing. He doesn’t move far before he drops Stiles on top of the kitchen table. He hands Stiles the lube and sits down on a chair. “Open yourself up for me.” 

Somehow this is worse than any of the other things Peter has done to him up until now. There’s a certain intimacy to this act that makes Stiles blush bright red and hold his legs tightly closed.

Of course Peter’s having none of that and forcefully pulls his legs apart, exposing Stiles. His grip on Stiles’ calves is strong enough to leave bruises. “Come on, you don’t want me to go in unprepared, do you?”

Stiles shakes his head. His hands shake a little as he struggles to open the lube and coat his fingers. Peter’s hands remain on his legs while Stiles begins to open himself up. It’s nothing like when he does it at home. He’s too exhausted to feel aroused and all he feels is shame under Peter’s gaze. Every time his hand grazes his red ass Stiles whimpers in pain; Peter really hurt him good. By the time he’s twisting three fingers inside himself, Stiles is full on sobbing. Peter’s still gripping his legs and by now it’s hurting a lot, his ass feels like it’s on fire, and Peter’s looking at Stiles’ fingers like a cat looks at a mouse. On top of all of that, Stiles is getting harder with every passing second and he’s not sure he can handle another orgasm without falling apart. 

“That’s enough,” Peter says. He gets up from his seat and pulls Stiles closer to him, until his ass is hanging off the table. He works quick at slicking up his dick and before Stiles has time to realize what’s going on, he pushes in in one hard thrust.

“Oh, my god! Fuck. Peter, just… fuck!” he yells. His own voice surprises him. Normally he’s very vocal during sex, but Peter just makes him silent. There’s no space left to talk when Peter’s hurting him. Stiles never knew he’d enjoy not talking this much.

“If it hurts, it’s your own fault. You stretched yourself,” Peter says, almost immediately setting a fast pace. 

He’s so beautiful, Stiles thinks. Peter’s hanging over him, still fully clothed, not even breaking a sweat yet. Stiles doesn’t know what he finds more beautiful, Peter’s face or his strength, all he knows is that he can’t get enough of either. 

Stiles lets out little helpless moans as Peter fucks into him ruthlessly. He lets his head fall back on the table, giving himself over to Peter completely. He moves back and forth on the table with every thrust. 

“Look at you, just taking it like a little slut,” Peter says, smirking down at Stiles. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

Stiles nods, not even having to think about the answer. Right now he’d let Peter do anything, as long as it means the thoughts stay away. 

Peter laughs and his grip on Stiles’ hips tightens, his blunt, human nails digging into Stiles’ skin. “If only I’d known sooner just how much of a slut you are, I would have done this sooner,” he said.

Stiles is too out of it to process what Peter’s saying. All he can do is lay back as Peter pounds into him. Peter seems to last forever. His pace never changes and there isn’t a bead of sweat on him. Stiles would think he’s incredibly bored, if it wasn’t for the hungry look in Peter’s eyes. 

Stiles wants to come so badly, but he’s just coherent enough to remember Peter warning him not to come without permission a third time. All he can do is take whatever Peter’s giving him. After what seems like at least half an hour, Peter’s pace finally changes. It’s faster and a lot less steady. He’s even letting out little grunts. He finally pulls Stiles towards him harshly and comes.

When he pulls out, Stiles feels empty and desperate. He’s still hard and without permission, there’s nothing he can do about it. Before he can stop himself, he lets out a whine.

Peter laughs. “You can jerk off,” he says. “Make it quick.”

Stiles doesn’t need to be told twice. It barely takes more than a light touch before come’s splattering all over his chest.

Stiles is barely aware of what happens next. He can feel Peter cleaning him and making him drink something. He’s zoned out and blissfully happy. He falls asleep and sleeps without nightmares for the first time in forever.

Stiles wakes up at five in the morning on Peter’s couch. He’s incredibly thankful he’s not in Peter’s bed, because the reality of everything that happened is beginning to sink in. He locates his clothes and gets dressed as quickly and quietly as he can, despite the burning pain in his backside. He catches a quick glimpse of the bruise on his side, where Peter kicked him, and can’t help but smile. He’s going to enjoy looking at that bruise for a while. He manages to slip out of the apartment without waking Peter up. As he begins his long walk back to the club, he’s far too proud to get a taxi, Stiles vows to himself to never go back there.

It’s barely a week later that Stiles is kneeling naked in Peter’s living room, red welts over his chest and his mouth full of Peter’s dick. Vows are meant to be broken, right?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing something this smutty. Please let me know what you think! Comments are love <3


End file.
